


In Which Miscellaneous Ficlets are Posted

by TheXGrayXLady



Series: Shepard Traitor Soldier Spy and Related Works [5]
Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Scars, assorted ficlets, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2018-09-05
Packaged: 2019-02-13 02:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12974001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheXGrayXLady/pseuds/TheXGrayXLady
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.Contains cut content from Shepard Traitor Soldier Spy and Tumblr prompts





	1. Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Wound up cutting this out of a chapter of Shepard Traitor Soldier Spy because flashbacks broke the flow, but I liked it enough to clean it up and post it anyway.

“You want to know how I got this?” she said. She took his fingers and traced the stark line across her face. “I remember that was one of the big money bets on the Normandy.”

  
“I want to know everything about you,” he replied. They were in a seedy mostly Turian bar where she felt safe no one would recognize them. She was a drink and a half in and already tipsy enough to be affectionate.

  
“I ran into an open door when I was six. Split half my face open,” she said. “Everyone had those elaborate theories. I got it on Akuze. I did something badass in N7. I got it in a fight over my folders. Nope. I just walked into a door.”

  
“I can’t believe you did that,” he said. He took her hand and kissed the back of her fingers.

  
“That’s because you had money on the folders,” she said. He’s still not sure if she’s telling the truth, but he doesn’t care. Her smile’s wolfish and dangerous, the kind she knows better than to do in front of other people, but he thinks he likes it.


	2. Mako

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tali and Garrus bond over fixing the Mako.

“I never liked C-Sec,” she said, taking his wrench and sliding back under the Mako to do something to the drive shaft. This time, the Commander attempted to climb up a ninety degree incline and did something to the steering he couldn’t quite fix on his own. He still didn't quite like the idea of asking for help, but he was more comfortable letting Tali borrow his tools now than when they started their mission. Human tools were designed with too many fingers in mind to be used effectively and she always gave them back. “But the Commander deserves every moving violation you have on the books.”

“Every time we get out, I have to stop myself from asking for her license and registration,” he admitted, sitting down next to the wheel. 

“Kaidan says hers isn’t real,” she said.

“It has to be real,” he replied. “Nobody who likes paperwork that much would drive without a license.”

“Even if it is, she shouldn’t have it,” Tali said. Even muffled under the vehicle, her voice was pleasantly chirpy. “One day, she’s going to launch us off a mountain and I don’t know if I can fix the poor thing…”

“You sound more concerned about the Mako than the people in it.” Not entirely unexpected for a Quarian.

“I don’t put this much time into fixing the people,” she said. She stuck her hand out from under the Mako. “Could you please pass me the arc welder?”

“It seems like every day there’s something new with this.” He handed her the tool. “But she’s a tough old girl.” He gave the tire a gentle pat. "So long as we're here to fix her back up, it'll take more than a bad fall to keep her down." 

 

 


	3. Resonance

It'd been one week since the crucible fired and the Reapers fell. Hours later, search and rescue found Shepard buried under rubble on the Citadel. Four days since the remains of their fleets started to back home. Three days since doctors said that while Shepard was still in critical condition, she was stable. Only this morning, they said she was well enough for visitors. Admiral Hackett wished he was here under better circumstances.

She always looked smaller and less intimidating than she was until someone was right next to her. Even as he settled into the armchair at her bedside, she still looked tiny and impossibly weak. She used to be one of their best operatives. He'd always wanted her for fifth fleet. After only a few weeks working with her, Anderson told him that in ten years, they'd all be working for this woman and he fully expected it to happen. Now, she was covered in monitors and cultured skin and bandages and IVs. The parts of her face that weren't cut to hell and back were filled in black and blue. There was an unmissable void in the coarse beige blanket where her right leg should have been.

"Hello Steven," she croaked. As she rolled her bandaged head towards him, he decided to write that off as painkillers. "You here to break me out?"

"Bored already Captain?" The corner of her mouth twitched. For all she'd done, she'd more than earned a promotion. There wasn't anybody left who could tell him she didn't deserve it.

"Just tired of the feeding tube," she said, cracking her eyes open. Her voice was cracked and dry and gratingly slow. "I'd bring back the Reapers if it meant I could drink coffee again."

"You're awfully glib for almost dying," he said. He chose to take that as a good sign.

"Almost dying is Tuesday," she wheezed. She turned back to look at the ceiling and tried to lift her arm. Even that set her O2 intake skyrocketing "Also on enough painkillers to kill a horse. Can't be this chatty for long. If you're here for business, get to it."

"You're the only person who knows what happened on the Crucible," he said. "I need your statement."

She went quiet for a while and her breathing grew labored. The rush of air through her tubes was almost oppressive. Slowly, he saw her arm inch towards a remote. He reached out to nudge it closer.

"Don't!" she rasped. In all his years working with her, he'd never before heard her raise her voice. "It's all I can do myself!" One short sentence seemed to take more out of her than the Crucible. It took an impossibly long time for her to reach it and her hand shook as she pushed down on the button and the bed raised her up so she could sit.

"Whenever you're ready," he said, setting his datapad to record.

"Sir, I barely made it to the Citadel," she said. These words sounded easier than anything else she'd said today. "By the time I made it to the Crucible, Anderson was standing over Jack Harper's body. He told me to go, that he had it under control. So I ran. I wasn't there when the Crucible fired and I was knocked unconscious by the blast. The next thing I knew, I woke up here." He suspected they'd find discrepancies in her story when they had the time and resources to thoroughly investigate the Citadel's wreckage. Whatever it was, it would be easy to cover up.

He turned off his datapad and set it on the nightstand. "Off the record, how much of this is true?" he said.

"Does it matter Sir?" she said, leaning back onto her pillows and staring at him out of the corner of her eye. "It's a better story. Gives the galaxy a martyr to rally around while it rebuilds. David Anderson, Soldier, Councilor, Defender of Earth, gives his life to save the galaxy while a disgraced Spectre flies around playing politics."

"You never played when it comes to politics," he said. Maybe if she recovered enough to be up to it, he'd bring her a bottle of scotch and he'd get the real story. For now, he'd take this one. It was more useful to him than the truth.

After all they'd been through, and to inspire for all that was to come, the people of the galaxy deserved heroes. Shepard was a divisive figure. A manipulative, backstabbing bitch to some, all but a saint to others. A martyr was more useful to them now than the broken woman in front of him.

Shepard, who made her life telling people stories, who she was, who she wasn't, why they should follow her, do things her way, knew the power of a good story. Stories gave people hope, made them believe that all the monsters they were facing could be overcome. They needed someone more than human to inspire the galaxy to get back on its feet again and in a hospital bed, with not just a skeleton but a whole morgue in her closet, she wasn't going to pass.

It didn't hurt that she'd never wanted the world's attention and in case she could go back to work, she could return to relative anonymity.

"Oh I played Sir, but I played to win," she said. Even mostly immobilized, she managed to convey a look of the cat that ate the canary. "My personal effects are in the dresser. In the top drawer, there's an omnitool that used to belong to Harper. Your crews found it in the wreckage."

"I'll be sure to send commendations where they're due for retrieving such important intel," he said. After he found suitable persons to attribute credit, he'd be sure to send her something in thanks. "Anything else?"

She nodded painfully. "Later. Tired," she said. "Stay if you want."

"If only I could," he said, slowly standing up. He could only stay away from the galaxy's remain leadership for as long as necessary. "It's going to take a lot to repair the damage the Reapers caused and there's not enough hours in the day."

"Sir, before you go…" She struggled to sit up on her own, but only managed to raise her head a few inches off the pillow. "…any word from the Normandy?"

He could tell her that it sustained heavy damage picking up the MedEvac shuttle and when the rest of the fleets dropped out of FTL at the rendezvous point, the Normandy hadn't been among them. There were new ships still coming home, but with each passing day, it grew less and less likely that the Normandy would be among them.

Shepard knew the power of a good story and right now, it wasn't just the rest of the galaxy who needed one.

"We have more ships coming back every day," he said, gingerly putting a hand on her shoulder. "When they come in, you'll be the first to know." Her cracked and bruised face broke into a rare smile. She knew the odds, but it was a good enough story to give her a little more reason to fight.


	4. Illium Revenue Services

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the one hand, I haven’t utilized Mira using the power of being really obnoxious lately. On the other, it clashes with the tone of the next chapter really harshly so I had to cut it.

She straightened the cuffs on her new suit and took in the lobby to Liara’s office. It was a simple job. Get in, find out how Liara knew she was alive, then continue with her mission. Minimal security and only a secretary between her and the door. If Liara was as she remembered, she had the money to inspire loyalty from her staff, but not the social skills. A good secretary was worth their weight in eezo and this was one of those cases in which store bought was just never as good.

“Excuse me,” she said. With an effortless motion, she took out her stylus and powered up her datapad.

“I’m sorry, Doctor T’Soni is in a meeting at the moment,” the secretary said, not looking up from her terminal. “If you would like to meet with her, you will have to make an appointment.”

“Oh I’m not here for an appointment,” she said, giving the Asari her best small woman backed by an implacable government organization smile. “I’m Noone with Illium Revenue Services.” She flashed a badge she’d pickpocketed off a police officer too quickly for the secretary to make out the full insignia.

Better to give Liara as little time to prepare for her as possible. She paid for the dock, she likely knew she was on the planet. She’d spend her day procuring supplies, then tracking down Samara. This was the only measure of surprise she had left.

“As I said, if you would like to arrange a meeting, you can make an appointment,” she said.

“Non-compliance with government officials…” She clicked her tongue and made a note. “This is not going to look good on my report….” She shook her head, gave a good natured laugh. “What did you say your name was again?”  

“Nyxeris,” she said. “What are you here for?”

“Oh I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” she said, making more notes. “Neither are the people from Customs for that matter and if they have to come by later well…” She twirled her stylus. “You know what  _they’re_  like.”

“You’ll have to come back later with them,” she said. “And you’ll have to make an appointment.”

“Obstructing an investigation, enabling the destruction of evidence…” she said, continuing her notes. “Working for Ms. T’soni must be a dream come true for you Nyxeris.” She gave the Asari a professionally annoying smile. She wasn’t going anywhere, unless it was through that door.

They glared at her, then pressed an intercom button. “Ms. T’soni, there’s somebody from Illium Revenue Services here for you.” No matter how much Liara was paying her, it wasn’t enough to have to spend any more time around Shepard than was absolutely necessary.

When there was no response, Shepard clicked her stylus and made another mark, and the secretary shook her head. “I’ll wave you through.”

“Thank you Nyxeris,” she said, striding towards the door. “I’ll be sure to my superiors hear about how cooperative you were.”


	5. Petrichor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got this prompt a few weeks ago. Forgot it in my drafts. Finished it on my lunch break. Oops.

_Petrichor._

Shepard knows the word. She knows exactly what it means. She knows how to use it in a sentence. She’s never said it herself. She’s never heard anybody say it out loud, so she can’t pronounce it, and refuses to embarrass herself by tripping over words. But she knows what it means and as she runs deeper into the canyon, the smell fills the air.

Her boots stick in the red mud, but she keeps running. Aria’s has a lot to answer for when she gets off this damn rock. A bit of mercenary work. Pays good. Needs discretion. Only problem is it’s in Alliance space.  

Another crack of lightning forks through the sky, briefly illuminating rain slick canyon walls. Briefly illuminating her. The footsteps behind her grow faster.  She vaults a boulder in her way. She will find a way out of here. 

The walls are too slippery to climb. Even if they weren’t, her cloak won’t last long enough for her to climb out of range. 

She doesn’t know how the Alliance tracked her here. She’ll figure it out when she gets back to the ship. All that matters now is escape. A chase like this should have been a thrill, a chance to show off her skills, but this doesn’t feel like worthy challenge. Only a nuisance. 

As she runs further, the sound of rushing water grows louder. The river’s soaked through her socks and if it grows much wider, she’ll run out of space to run. She scrambles over more rocks and a half rotted tree, its soft bark crumbling in her hands. She doesn’t break step as she slides into knee deep water on the other side. 

A blue bolt flies by her head as she jumps back onto the mud. Barely missed by a stasis field, but it gives just enough light to see the waterfall in front of her. 

She skids to a stop just before she runs right over the edge. 

“Shepard wait!” The outward anger in Kaidan’s voice has dulled since Horizon, but she knows that doesn’t mean anything. She doesn’t turn around, just stares into the raging water below. Only twenty feet down and it looks deep.  “Please.” 

A faint blue glow illuminates the ground in front of her.  Mud sucks at his boots as he comes closer. Close enough so she can hear the crackle of static and if he wanted to, if she’d allow it, he can touch her. The smell of ozone mixes with petrichor. 

“Come back with me.”  

She jumps. 


	6. Out of Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a prompt, "A kiss out of habit"

Shepard turned the corner and checked her watch. Eight minutes and thirty seconds on the last mile. Not good, but her earlier fractions had a more acceptable pace and she’d added distance this morning.  Really, a better performance than she’d had in a long time. If she was sucking wind a little, she could live with it. For today at least.

There was a little part of her that wanted to push for another mile. This was adequate. She was never satisfied with adequate. If she pushed herself harder, she’d make progress faster. She could handle a little more of a challenge. A year ago, this run would have been a warm up. She wanted to get back into the field. The remaining Cerberus cells wouldn’t dismantle themselves. It wasn’t going to happen if she coddled herself.

She shook her head and slowed to cool down. She knew better than to get stuck in that spiral. Even if she was frustrated and felt cooped up, she was making remarkably good progress. She didn’t want to set herself back by doing too much.

When she was within eyesight of the apartment, she came back down to a brisk walk. Her shirt was sweaty and her heart raced, but she was mostly satisfied with her run. She took a moment to lean on a railing and take in the view.

Sometimes when she needed a change of pace from the seemingly endless Cerberus datafiles and things she had to do to assist in reconstruction, she liked to come out here and watch the work crews. Remind herself that things were getting better. Maybe when she met up with Miranda later, they’d do this for a while. Her friend probably needed to see it too.

She watched the machines until she caught her breath, then she kept on towards home. With her high fading, her leg was beginning to pinch. Perhaps she’d rushed putting it on this morning.  

When she reached the apartment, she was greeted at the door with the smell of warm coffee. She poured herself a cup, took an experimental sip, and was suddenly grateful she hadn’t pushed for that last mile. Perfect timing. Warm, strong, a little bitter. No better way to start her morning than with a good run and a perfect cup of coffee.

She set aside her coffee for a moment and set about making breakfast. Her box of instant oatmeal was already on the counter. Kaidan tried to make her oatmeal from scratch once. While she appreciated the gesture, it wasn’t the same.

While she rifled through the variety pack, she heard the sound of soft footsteps behind her and the smell of her own peppermint shampoo wafted towards her. Kaidan's steps had a catch now. More so in the morning. 

“Hey.” Kaidan rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Have a good run?” 

“Urgh,” she said, wrinkling her nose and picking a packet of strawberry oatmeal. “You’re still wet.” She glanced at the cabinet again and decided that she could afford to spend a little of the week’s salt ration on a treat.  

“You’re sweaty,” he countered. He held her a little closer and nuzzled her neck.

“Added another half mile today,” she said, flipping the water heater on and taking one of his hands. “You should come with me sometime.” She liked her routines, and this was a good one. Wake up. Leave a note. Run. Come home to fresh coffee. She’d like this kind of disruption though.

“Not sure I can keep up,” he said.

“Give yourself a little more credit Alenko,” she said, leaning back on him slightly. “Besides, I’m a lot slower now and we’ve got one good set of legs between us.”

“I’ll see how I feel,” he said. “I think I’ll join you though.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

Shepard smiled. She liked this routine very much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I just enjoyed this.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: why do you keep bringing it up?.

**_12\. “why do you keep bringing it up?”_ **

* * *

 

Garrus paused in the door. Shepard was at her desk, her papers neatly stacked. Her uniform was neatly pressed and she looked far too well put together for having narrowly escaped earth, then Palaven in such quick succession.

Her quarters on the other hand were still a mess from the half-finished retrofit. There was exposed wiring by her bed and a stack of wall panels behind the couch. Someone had hastily constructed a work bench out of her nightstand and a panel and there was a cluster of cables and a messy stack of tools on it he almost couldn’t believe she hadn’t already organized.

The fish tank, once empty, now had a lone goldfish swimming through the weeds. She still had the model Normandy in a bottle on her desk by her terminal.

“If I’d known you were going to just stare at me, I would have done something more interesting to watch,” she said without turning around. “What can I do for you Garrus?”

“Shepard,” he said. “When I ran into you at Huerta earlier…”

“I told you.” Her voice was cool and level with an air of condescension. “I was busy.” She didn’t look up from her requisition forms.  “Why do you keep bringing it up?”

“Thane said you’d been there for hours.” He stood at the edge of the desk and tapped a claw to try to get her attention.

“I was,” she admitted. “I was working. When we left earth, the ship was not equipped for any sort of work. We had no medical supplies and Kaidan was our only medic. By the time I finished with the requisite meetings and paperwork to transfer Dr. Chakwas back to the Normandy, secured necessary medical supplies and personnel, and finished the rest of my work at the hospital, visiting hours were over.”

“I know it’s important, but he asked about you,” he said. “Wanted to know how you were doing.” When he visited, Kaidan seemed, all things considered, in good spirits. If Garrus had ears, he would have talked them off about neurosurgery with as much enthusiasm as he could manage. He was far too excited about cadaver disks.

If he’d known that Shepard was down the hall, talking an administrator into speeding up Chakwas’ termination of employment, then finding another vital task to eat away the time he would have gone to get her. Instead, he told Kaidan that she wasn’t that busy and would show up soon.  

Both Kaidan and Shepard were his friends. He wanted them to mend things between them. But they were both stubborn and while Shepard said she wanted to talk things out, she would rather not. He was sure she intended to go visit tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, but when that day came, she’d find any excuse not to.

“I told Kaidan that  _if_  I had time, I would be delighted to go see him. I didn’t have time.” Her voice carried threat of distant thunder and if he were a more sensible Turian, he’d let it go. “He’s a reasonable man. He knows that under these circumstances, my time is a limited resource. I can’t afford to spend it socializing.”

That was the worst part of that conversation. Kaidan understood. He hadn’t looked surprised, or even particularly disappointed, that Shepard had too much going on to make time to see him. Just resigned. He remembered Mars only in bits and pieces, most of it hazy either due to the head injury or the painkillers, but he remembered some of what he said to her. Enough of it to want to apologize.

Her response was a far cry from when she came into the main battery after a fitful attempt at sleep. Visions of charred flesh and gentle waves lapping at a ruined shore still clutched at her and Ash’s voice echoed in her ear. She sat down beside him on the railing, her shoulders slumped like six months under house arrest and a Reaper invasion were only just now starting to hit her, and said in a small, shaking voice, “It’s my fault. I needed the Illusive Man to trust me. I didn’t…”

He didn’t think Mira Shepard had ever felt guilty about anything she’d ever done in her life. She didn’t know how to deal with guilt. He tried to help, but he was distracted by Palaven. Trying to help the new Primarch. Trying to find out about his family. He could only do so much.

She felt more than a little to blame for what happened, but it was easier for her to deal with it when she thought he was dying. She was afraid to go see Kaidan again. Afraid of his response. Afraid of what he’d say to her. Afraid he’d only hurt her again. And she responded to uncomfortable emotions by doing what she did best. Running from it.

“What’s your schedule look like tomorrow?” he asked. Maybe if they were together the prospect wouldn’t seem quite so daunting. “If you can make time, I can go with you if…”

“Don’t worry about that Garrus,” she said, waving him off. “I won’t have time tomorrow. There’s a lot of preparations I have to make for the war council. Then I have to secure the loyalty of the Terminus systems before we leave for Sur’kesh…”

“And when we get back you’ll find something else,” he said.

“That’s not fair. You saw Palaven burning. We need to do everything we can to defeat the Reapers,” she said. She set one signed form off to the side before taking another to review. To anyone else, the smudge at the end of her signature wouldn’t have meant anything. “Kaidan understands that it’s not that I don’t want to see him, there just isn’t enough time.”

“You made time for a visit with Aria T’Loak in a night club,” he said. He tried not to spit the name. Tried not to let his own bitterness towards Omega come into the conversation. “You could have found ten minutes while you were already in Huerta…”

For the first time since he came in the room, she looked at him. Still inscrutable and emotionless as ever.

“It wasn’t a priority,” she said. A sudden cold crack of lighting. If he were a sensible Turian, he would let it go. He was not a sensible Turian, they were his friends, and they’d been treating each other poorly.

“Look, Shepard,” he said, gently putting his claws on her shoulder. He’d let it go after this. “You don’t have to have to talk to Kaidan if you don’t want to, but if you’re not going to, you have to tell him.”  


End file.
